Demonic Garden
by Chesiere Cat
Summary: "Will you be my eternal flower, Mukuro-kun?" Mukuro's 2013 birthday fic. 10069. One shot.


**Title:** Demonic Garden

**Pairing:** Byakuran/Mukuro

**Rating:** R (M)

**Warning:** BL, NSFW, mentions of death and violence

**Note:** A lot of flower language references here but nothing too ambiguous that will hinder your reading.

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Once upon a time, in a false Eden created by a false God, all the flowers cried. They lived in fear to bloom and bloomed only due to sorrow, for there was no single flower that could blossom forever like how the wicked creator wished. Some flowers bloomed and withered, some others were crushed like they held no worth.

And silently, the flowers whispered, wondering among themselves when the owner of the garden was sleeping.

They kept asking why, why, why and why the wings of this cruel, cruel angel were still white. Could the false beauty of this paradise really cover the stench of blood? Could satisfaction of greed and lust make amaranth truly immortal? When roses were plucked off their thorns and lotuses wished to be scorned instead of maintaining purity? When daffodils and lilies lost their pride and chose to wilt and die instead of staying blooming?

**Only the vilest flower thrived in this false Eden that was filled with death's scent.**

Because even little forget-me-not also begged…

"This eye of Mukuro-kun… Its color is like forget-me-not flower."

_'Please…please…forget me.'_

But the wicked angel insisted the little flower stayed, for he could never forget the blue forget-me-not even when the lovely color disappeared under pale eyelids, and pretty, rosy lips refused to be kissed even as he promised the sweetness of lily of the valley. For return of the flowers' happiness could here only come from the freedom to truly cease.

**To live was misery. To die in agony was to forever leave.**

The cycle continued, over and over; one night after another and the new loop began.

Those praises of beauty that sang of the color of roses on his lips, those sweet, sweet words that were as empty as the soul of hollowness; enlaced so richly they were…of poisons, of thorns that pricked and made one bleed so severely as if they weren't merely words.

"Kufufu… You think so? How ironic I find my state of desire quite the opposite."

For he wished the angel's embrace would be cold. For he frowned upon those kiss marks that never faded.

The flowers in the garden cried. For no flower was as tortured as one bound by hatred and twisted love.

"You know, my love, your lies are driving me crazy." The white angel's smile cut like a knife, ripping apart that one flower's petals, crushing them again and again until there was little left of its pride despite constant proclamation of devoted love.

**The so-called love…the obsession so strong it left the flower bruised and bleeding.**

"Even when I am considering giving you this world as a present." Strong hand caressed his flower's skin, tracing the perfection he made stained with blood, bruises and semens. His touches, like fire, made the petals curl as if shying away before the loveliness became nothing but dust.

The lithe form beneath him shivered, stirred up by desire he himself never wished kindled; his moans being swallowed by those hungry lips that wanted nothing more than to taste the very core of his bittersweetness.

And that one forget-me-not hid, disappearing again underneath the canopy of white lily that was his eyelid, hiding away its own meaning in the language of flower, for it wanted to scream another that was the opposite of its name.

_'Forget me not… Don't forget me… Please, please forget me.' _

So long, lives after lives he had lived in loneliness as if it had been eternity and he dreaded his deepest craving of something he had never before had…

**This false love of a lying angel.**

An angel so full of deceits that only brought upon the world sorrow and destruction. The man who strived to be God. The one who boasted he owned everything. That he was everything like the one sky that enveloped all…

"…If the world is owned by you, it has no value to me."

_'Please forget me. Please, please forget me…' _

Once upon a time, in the garden of the devil, there was one flower that never withered.

"Byakuran-_san_, do you know why I love this thing called perfection?" Mismatched eye — one redder than the reddest blood and one the same color as the little flower that wanted so much the angel to forget its meaning — gazed into the other's amethysts. Those amethysts so cold as if to reflect the chills of winter… How he hated them. Hated them because it reminded him of the contrast…of his embrace that was as warm and sweet-smelling as those beautiful days in summer.

Slender arms wrapped around the man and the mismatched eyes moved closer…so close the other man could feel every sigh and shiver as he wiggled and writhed beneath those touches. Still, the blue-haired man smiled and instead of moans and sighs, escaped from those lips were acidic whispers:

"Because true perfection is impossible." Those lips curved, forming an all-too-familiar smirk. "Even orchids shrivel and die."

"Mukuro-kun…" The pristine white angel gently cupped his prisoner's chin, smiling that brilliant, amiable smile. "Don't you know that human's wishes are most valuable when they know the wishes aren't attainable?"

**The eternal flower was the one that grew amongst corpses.**

"Dead flower like me doesn't suit your garden."

In a world in which Millefiore had won, everything became meaningless.

_'Please forget me. Please, please forget me.' _

"I am not that God that will chase you away from my garden because you have eaten the forbidden fruit, Mukuro-kun."

"…Of course, your name is Lucifer." The devil that transformed himself into a snake, deceiving humanity with mellifluous lies… "There's not even a single butterfly in your garden."

The man's smile widened. He parted Mukuro's legs as his fingers slid lower…

"Ah!"

…Probing the pink puckered entrance that made the lithe form beneath him tremble.

"This forbidden fruit… Even if you don't want it, I will still force it down your throat." Because he would never get rid of him. Because he would never let him die.

"Kufufu… How I envy Snow White."

Snow White and her poison apple. After one bite, she went down, down in the realm of dreamless sleep where faces of the dead could not haunt her.

_'I want to forget…'_

"Welcome to the world of dreams, then, my Snow White."

**This place was the sweetest nightmare.**

"Will you be my eternal flower?"

**That one single flower that bloomed because of twisted love…in the realm of nightmare that never ended.**

"Angel, God, Devil…or even a prince, whatever you are…"

_'Forget me not. Please don't forget me. Don't forget us…' _

"I hate the ending of a fairy tale in which I can't say no to you."

Sweet, sweet moans echoed in the false Eden of the false God when other flowers became nothing but piles of corpses.

And the lovely blue color of the little forget-me-not disappeared again behind the canopy of lily of the valley…along with its meaning that started to fade and distort…before it was completely forgotten…

"It's your birthday tomorrow, isn't it?"

**Forever…**

"I will take you to see some butterflies tomorrow, Mukuro-kun."

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**Demonic Garden**

**Fin**

Always a bloody b-day fic for Mukuro. Actually, it's been quite some time since I've last written any 10069. I hope this one doesn't disappointed. Buon compleanno, Rokudo Mukuro-kun.

9.6.2013


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